Sherlock's Scarf
by Starswirling
Summary: Molly's been having dirty thoughts about Sherlock and his scarf, and Sherlock knows it. What happens when Sherlock decides to take Molly up on her fantasies?
1. Chapter 1

Molly was staring at his scarf again. Even as she chastised herself internally for mooning over Sherlock _again_, she couldn't tear her eyes from it. Sherlock always wore scarves. They were as pivotal to his identity as his beloved Belstaff. Lately though Molly had found herself thinking of all the dirty things she could do with that scarf...and its owner.

Molly finally lifter her gaze from his scarf to Sherlock's face. Oh, _god_, he was smirking at her. He had seen her staring at his scarf and had deduced what she was thinking. Of course he had.

Molly blushed as she turned to grab the toxicology report that Sherlock had originally come for and handed it to him while avoiding his eyes.

"Um...Mr. Trask's report came back clean...he..um, he appeared to have enjoyed a fairly vice-free life," stammered Molly wishing for _once _that her plea for the floor to open up and swallow her whole would be granted. So far no luck.

"Molly," Sherlock drawled.

"Look at the time!" Molly said quickly. "I'm late for a meeting!" And with that Molly turned on her heel and practically ran from the lab.

Sherlock waiting until the door had swung shut before he started chuckling. Honestly, while Molly's thoughts were perfectly clear to him, he was a bit surprised that her line of thinking was so..._naughty_. For some reason that pleased Sherlock, and he wasn't sure why. With a snap he closed Mr. Trask's file and began leaving the lab, resolving as he went, he would put this whole Molly/dirty scarf obsession out of his mind.

And yet...

And yet...here he was three days later, standing over a corpse with Lestrade and John and he was still thinking about it. Not actively of course, he was still making deductions on how the victim was staged to look like a suicide, (he was killed by a shot to the right-side of his head, and yet he was left-handed, you could tell by the wearing of his left cuff), but he couldn't keep his hands off his scarf, touching it and wondering just _what_ Molly had planned to do with it. Even John noticed.

"What's the matter? Did the dry-cleaners put too much starch in your scarf?" Asked John. "You keep fingering it, is it itching you?"

"What? No." Sherlock said with a start. "I'm just...thinking," finished Sherlock lamely.

"Of course you were," scoffed John. "That's what you do with 90 percent of your time."

Sherlock couldn't think of clever comeback and settled for glaring at John instead.

"Well this is clearly a waste of my time," said Sherlock straightening and ignoring John and Lestrade's outraged sputters. "I need to check on some experiments at Bart's. I'll text you later John," he said over his shoulder, leaving to John to once again find his own way home from a crime scene.

In the relative quiet of the cab Sherlock finally admitted to himself that his thoughts about Molly and his scarf weren't being easily banished, and even more startling he found himself ...enjoying these thoughts. But he was Sherlock bloody Holmes! He didn't need, and didn't want sex.

And yet...

And yet...the idea of Molly, naked and wrapped around him was something Sherlock found himself wanting more and more. Admittedly, he was a bit under-experienced in sex department. Lord knows John and Mycroft teased him about it all the time. Surely having a little more knowledge in that area would be helpful in this investigations. It definitely would be nice to not have to look to John for answers when sexual stuff (the mechanics and the motivations) came up in his inquires.

Yes, this could be an experiment, Sherlock decided. He could handle an experiment. Now all he needed was to get Molly on board.

A half-hour later Sherlock strode into the pathology lab. He locked the door behind him quietly and then made a bee-line to Molly, who was absorbed in looking at slides and hadn't heard him come in or even when he came to stand directly behind her.

"I've deduced 37 ways my scarf could be used as a sexual aid," said Sherlock (he had thought about that too on the cab ride over). Molly, shocked at the sound of Sherlock's voice out of nowhere, gasped and jumped back, causing Sherlock to grab her by the arms to keep her from stepping on his toes.

"What!" exclaimed Molly, turning around in Sherlock's arms, her face turning beet red.

"My scarf," said Sherlock, with an expression that clearly said he thought Molly was being slow. "I know you've been thinking of how it can be used during sex...during sex with me."

Molly still blushing furiously, stared at Sherlock while she open and closed her mouth a few times, unable to get a word out. She was however, thinking- 37? Damn. She'd only come up with 18. Either she was losing creativity in her old age, or Sherlock had experienced way kinkier acts then she had thought.

"I've never had sex with someone I respected before," said Sherlock, using the reasoning he had thought of in the cab ride that would work best on Molly. "I find myself curious about what that would be like, and if the scarf would ...add pleasure to the act."

"Are, are you asking me to have sex with you?" Squeaked Molly, sure that she wasn't hearing right.

"Yes," said Sherlock firmly. "An experiment! It has been pointed out to me time and time again that my knowledge in this area is woefully lacking. This will rectify that. We'll meet three times a week, for the next four weeks. I give you full license to do what you want with my scarf," said Sherlock with a grin.

Molly gulped. This was _not_ happening. Years of daydreaming and un-returned affection and now Sherlock was practically throwing himself at her. Next she'll find out that she'd find out that lab coats where now the height of couture fashion.

"You'd only have sex with me, I mean we'd be exclusive" said Molly, stalling for time while she tried to stop her head from spinning. The fact that Sherlock still hadn't let go of her was _not_ helping.

"Yes," said Sherlock.

"You can't tell John," said Molly, still stalling.

"As long as you promise not to tell Mary," said Sherlock. "I know you two like to gossip."

"You know that a lot of my...my ideas would require you to be...somewhat...submissive to me," said Molly nervously.

Sherlock had been watching Molly's mouth while they had been talking. Seeing her form the word _submissive_ and hearing it leave her pink lips cause a jolt to zip straight down to his groin. Sherlock had never had that reaction before (although he would never admit it, Irene had come pretty close) and it only furthered confirmed that he had to get to the bottom of this scarf business. He was sure that once the "experiment" was over, he would stop thinking about it and he wouldn't be bothered by it again.

"I understand," said Sherlock, with no hint of embarrassment or unease in his voice.

Molly closed her eyes. This could be a spectacularly bad idea. She already in half in love with Sherlock, and she knew the odds of him ever loving her back were astronomical. Right now she was pretty sure she could get over her feelings and marry someone else, if she ever found herself in that position (again). If she went through with this, there would probably be no coming back. She would more than likely pine for him forever.

But at the same time, if she turned him down, she knew she'd never forgive herself. Ever. She would think about it everyday for the rest of her life.

Fuck it, Molly thought. She'd be brave.

"Deal," said Molly and in another act of bravery, she leaned up on her tip-toes and sealed their pact by kissing Sherlock square on the mouth. Sherlock was startled for a moment but then he found himself returning Molly's kiss with enthusiasm.

Molly leaned back, breaking their embrace.

"Oh, Molly Hooper," said Sherlock with a grin he couldn't contain. "This is going to be good."

Notes:

Instead of writing the whole story and then publishing it, I'm going to try doing it chapter by chapter.

Disclaimer: I, of course, own nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, Molly found herself walking from the tube stop to Sherlock's flat. She was nervous and had a death grip on the strap of the small overnight bag slung over her shoulder. She had no idea what to expect. After their kiss in the lab, Sherlock had swept out, calling over his shoulder that he would text Molly when he was ready to begin their "experiment." Then she hadn't seen him or heard a peep from him until he texted her last night.

WE'LL START OUR EXPERIMENT TOMORROW. COME OVER AFTER YOUR SHIFT. THE DOOR WILL BE UNLOCKED. -SH

Molly had started three different responses, asking if he would want her to stay and should she bring condoms. She ended up saying nothing, worried that if she did, Sherlock would find the whole thing too bothersome and tell her to forget it.

She was just grateful that he had given her enough warning that she was able to shave her legs, pick out some pretty lingerie to change into before she left Barts and pack some toiletries and extra clothes just in case. She contemplated whether she wanted to wear something a little dressier over the lingerie, but given that the few times she had tried dressing up to impress Sherlock Holmes had always failed spectacularly, she decided against it. If this whole thing turned into a debacle at least she'd be comfortable clothes, damn it.

The other thing that was causing her mental anguish was her overnight bag. All day long that bag had mocked her from her its resting place in her office.

"You really think Sherlock Holmes is going to want to you spend the night with him after you have sex?" Said the bag in Molly's mind, sounding just like all the stuck up girls from her school years. "Good _lord_, you're optimistic. You know after you've finished 'experimenting' he's going to pat you on the head and send you along your merry way. Sherlock doesn't _do_ intimacy."

Molly had actually kicked the bag a couple of time today, unable to turn the mocking voice off in her head. She was not proud of this. Still, on the extreme off chance that Sherlock _did_ want her stay, Molly wanted to be prepared. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it, as her father use to say. Although she doubted he had ever meant for that sentiment to be used in this type of situation.

That thought struck Molly as so funny she started to giggle, earning her some strange looks from the people around her on the sidewalk. She really needed to get her act together, Molly thought. She was in her 30's for god's sake. Surely other people her age weren't so unsure of themselves, unable to get comfortable in their own skins. Molly wondered at what age she'd finally feel like she had a grip on her life. She suspected that it wasn't in the cards for her and would probably still feel this way in her 80's and lord wasn't that depressing?

Molly finally decided to nip into a nearby tea shop to give herself 10 minutes to settle her nerves and put a stop to her whirling thoughts. Once she had collected her tea, Molly sat at one of the shop's small tables and closed her eyes. She could do this. She _wanted_ to do this. For the love of god, she was about to have her way with Sherlock Holmes! And he had _agreed_ to it!

Molly finally felt some bravo come back to her. Sherlock had chosen her for this experiment. He might not consciously realize it, but that meant something. She would not let him, or herself, down.

Feeling more in control of herself, Molly finished her tea and stepped back out into the night, her head held high, her grip on her bag light and her gait full of confidence.

* * *

Notes: Sorry this is a short chapter, but the next one is already half-way written!


	3. Chapter 3

Finally reaching her destination 15 minutes later, Molly stopped to briefly square her shoulders before opening the door to Sherlock's flat. As she closed the door behind her and locked it, Molly glanced around the living space. It was in its usual state of chaos. Papers and equipment scattered with seemingly no rhyme or reason and the faint smell of burnt...something lingered in the air.

"Sherlock?" Molly called out hesitantly, as she set her bag on the couch. "Where are you?"

The sound of a door opening had Molly turning. And there stood Sherlock, in a blue silk dressing gown... and obviously nothing else.

"Sherlock!" Squeaked Molly. "Why are you naked?!"

"Isn't that the point of all this?" Asked Sherlock, using his Molly-is-being-slow-again tone. "Plus I'm not naked; I'm wearing my dressing gown."

Sherlock took three strides, grabbed Molly's hand and pull her through the doorway into his room. Molly could see he had already laid his blue cashmere scarf on the bed, which was not made, but the sheets looked like they had just been washed. Not exactly a bouquet of roses, but Molly found the gesture to be just as romantic. Then she noticed the giant box of condoms on the night stand. Looks like she didn't need to have bothered running out on her lunch break to buy a pack after all. Molly was glad that Sherlock had thought that far ahead.

"Now," said Sherlock, his hands behind his back as he began to pace beside his bed. "How did you want to start? Did you want to use the scarf to blindfold me? Tie my hands? As a gag?"

The gag part was starting to sound good, Molly thought to herself. But she noticed that Sherlock's pacing was reaching an almost frenzied level. Was it possible that Sherlock was nervous too? Normally Molly would say no, Sherlock was the world's most self-assured person, but when she looked at his face she could see in his eyes that he _was_ nervous.

Any lingering doubts she had melted away. Molly stood in Sherlock's direct path and reached out and took hold of his forearms, forcing him to stop.

"Sherlock," Molly said gently. "Let's ease into this okay? We don't have to do anything you don't want to. I trust you and you know that you can trust me. Would you feel better if you had a safe word? I promise I'll stop the second I hear it."

Sherlock let out a big breath. "I would actually," he said, looking somewhat sheepish. "Would...Vivaldi be acceptable?"

"If that's what you want it to be, then it's perfect," said Molly, sitting down on the bed while pulling Sherlock to sit down next to her.

She squeezed Sherlock's hands in reassurance and then scooped up his impossibly soft cashmere scarf. With a small smile, Molly gently wound the scarf around Sherlock's neck. Sherlock had never thought putting his scarf on as an intimate act, but under Molly's hands, it was. He gulped and seeing this, Molly pressed her lips to his pulse point just under his neck. Sherlock gasped. Easing back, Molly slowly ran her hands up from where they were lightly circling Sherlock's wrists. Her touch was feather lights as she made her way up his arms and across his shoulders. Gently she took ahold of Sherlock's scarf in both hands and used it to draw him down as she leaned up to kiss him. Sherlock fluttered his hands for a few seconds before bringing his left hand up to cradle the back of Molly's skull while his right hand clutched at her hip.

Sherlock had secretly been hoping that Molly would be free with her kisses during their experiments. The one they had shared earlier in the lab had popped up his mind with startling regularity for the last three days. He had actually managed to burn one of his nicotine patches earlier today because instead of paying attention when he was in the kitchen last, he had been thinking of how soft and how good Molly's lips had felt on his, and hadn't noticed when the patch he had been toying with had fallen onto the burner he had turned on to heat up the kettle. Sherlock wasn't sure the horrible smell would ever be gone from the flat.

Molly suddenly deepened the kiss, using her tongue to explore Sherlock's mouth while her hands cradled his jaw. Sherlock moaned and mirrored her actions, feeling triumphant when he heard her making her own approving sounds. He was surprised to find that making Molly feel good increased his own pleasure in the act. He would have to review that piece of information more closely later.

After what felt like they had spent hours kissing, Molly sucked Sherlock's lower lip between her own, causing him to shiver with pleasure, before she eased back. Struggling to catch her breath, Molly looked at Sherlock, taking in that he was also working on calming his breathing, that his cheeks were flushed and his pupils blown wide. Sherlock was aroused, and she, _she_ had caused it. Molly suddenly felt like she could take on the world. She gave Sherlock a dazzling smile and before he could even start to work out what that meant, she shoved his shoulders so he fell back against the bed and then covered his body with her own.

Molly kissed the pulse point right under Sherlock's jaw and smiled briefly when she felt it thumping wildly beneath her lips. She gave it a quick nip, causing Sherlock to gasp as she slowly unwound the scarf from his neck.

"Molly…," breathed Sherlock.

"Shhh," said Molly, as she looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Just lie back and let me do this. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Sherlock swallowed nervously and nodded.

Molly kissed his lips briefly. "Thank you," she said and then began to slowly kiss down Sherlock's neck. After each kiss, Molly would tease his newly sensitized skin with the fringe of his scarf, causing Sherlock to moan and shift underneath Molly.

Molly continued working her way down, trailing the scarf against his skin, until she reached the belt on Sherlock's robe. Slowly Molly unraveled the knot. How can her touch be torture and delectable at the same time? Sherlock wondered to himself, holding his breath as his dressing gown's belt fell to the floor.

Molly willed her fingers not to tremble as she slid the material apart and off Sherlock's shoulders. She turned her gaze to take in all of his body.

Sherlock watched as her brown eyes (though brown was far too bland of a word to describe Molly's eye color, he thought. He had always secretly compared them to café con leche in his own mind) swept across to take in his lean shoulders before continuing down his chest, pausing on the scars that marred his ribs, before continuing her study of his slim waist, his hips that veed down to his groin. Sherlock felt himself blush and become even harder under Molly's bold stare.

"Sherlock," Molly said with a small smile. "You're gorgeous."

Sherlock knew he shouldn't feel pleased by Molly's sentimental statement, but he found himself smiling back at the petite women with genuine delight.

"Thank you Molly," said Sherlock. "But I know that I'm much too underweight to fit society's definition of 'gorgeous.' Plus these scars also detract from…"

"Sherlock!" Molly said loudly. "Shut up." She leaned down and ran her tongue across his scars, causing Sherlock to moan under her sudden onslaught. She swung her leg across his body, straddling his hips and grinding his cock underneath her.

Sherlock threw his back and grabbed her hips with a sound of desire. He couldn't stop himself from pulling her down to him as he bucked up under her. Even though she was fully clothed, Molly gasped at the feeling of Sherlock's erection pressing against her most intimate area.

"Molly," Sherlock said, his tone the huskiest Molly had ever heard it. "Let me undress you. Please."

It was the please that undid Molly. She gave him permission with a short nod. Still holding her hips, Sherlock sat up and curled his legs under Molly so now he sat tailor fashion with Molly facing him in his lap, her hands on his shoulders for balance.

Unlike Molly, who had taken her time removing his scant clothing, Sherlock quickly caught the hem of her pink jumper and peeled it off her like a kid unwrapping a birthday present. He made a noise of appreciation at the sight of her black lacey bra. Although the garment had such little material, Sherlock wasn't even sure it could even be classified as a bra.

Sherlock cupped Molly's breasts, enjoying how the different textures of the lacey bra and her smooth skin felt on his palms. Again, Sherlock was surprised at how much he was enjoying just touching Molly, and how hearing her moans and gasps made him want to continue pleasing her.

Suddenly Sherlock wondered if her panties matched her bra. He decided he need to find out, but first thing first, the bra would have to go.

Sherlock reached behind Molly, unclasped her bra and sent it to join her jumper on the floor before she had even realized it. Before she could take a breath, he was lowering her to the bed and rocking back to unbutton her trousers. He made quick work of the clasp and tugged them off of her legs before throwing them to the floor with the rest of her clothing.

Sherlock was pleased to see that her panties did in fact match the bra. Again though, Molly's lace bikini panties were so skimpy they caused his breathing to do funny things. Was there a lace shortage in England? Sherlock wondered as he tried to get ahold of himself.

Suddenly a little self-conscious of being completely naked while Molly still had some clothing, if you could that…._scrap_ of lace clothing, Sherlock hooked his thumbs under the waistband and pulled it free from her body.

Finally, braced above her and kneeling in between her legs, Sherlock took his time looking at her, from her dainty feet to the top of her auburn tresses. Over the years, when he had downtime between cases, Sherlock had spent time deducing what Molly's body looked like under her ill-fitting garments. He had been pretty sure he knew what she would look like naked.

He had been wrong.

"Molly," Sherlock deadpanned. "We have a problem here."

"We….we do?" Said Molly, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Of course he wouldn't find her attractive. She was an idiot. A naked, embarrassed idiot.

"If I'm gorgeous, how can I even begin to describe you?" He asked, his tone sincere.

"What?" Said Molly, not believing her ears.

"You're so beautiful Molly. Enchanting. Bewitching," Sherlock said, kissing Molly's neck with each word. "I'm glad you've been hiding yourself under a horrid wardrobe. If the men of London had any idea how lovely your body is, we'd never get any work done. Or worse, John would have hit on you and then I would have been obligated to strangle him."

Molly could feel an enormous smile spreading across her face. Sherlock Holmes thought _she_ was beautiful! She felt like he just given her one of the best gifts she had ever received.

"Oh I don't know," teased Molly. "I'm pretty sure John could burn down this flat and you would still forgive him."

"No," Sherlock said, his tone light but serious. "I have my limits. One is burning down 221B Baker Street. The other is flirting with my pathologist."

Molly honestly didn't think she could be any happier. She thought she should probably buy a lottery ticket tomorrow with this streak of good luck she seemed to be having.

She wound her left arm around Sherlock's neck and pressed herself against his chest as she kissed him, her tongue stroking him to madness. With her right hand she picked up the scarf and brought it behind his back.

"Sherlock," Molly demanded breathlessly. "Sit back the way you were."

Wordlessly, Sherlock sat back and pulled Molly into his lap again. She wrapped her legs around his waist and reached over to grab a condom, expertly unwrapping and sheathing him in a few movements.

"Hold my hips," panted Molly as she tossed the wrapper and positioned the scarf so that it ran across the back of Sherlock's shoulders, and wrapped it around her left fist.

"Your wish is my command," said Sherlock. He was unsure of what Molly was doing, but he looked forward to seeing what the end results would be.

Molly reached down and stroked Sherlock's cock, occasionally brushing it against her wetness. He moaned, and let his head fall back. He couldn't believe how good that felt.

"Are you ready Sherlock?" Asked Molly, seductively whispering in Sherlock's ear, as she continued to tease him with her hand.

"Yes!" Sherlock moaned, his baritone voice the lowest Molly had ever heard it.

Molly guided him to her aching entrance, shifting her hips and her pressing her knees against his back to take him all in at once. Sherlock gasped as her wet heat enveloped every inch of his erection. She was so _tight._

Molly grabbed the other end of the scarf and wrapped it around her hand. Using the scarf as tether, Molly leaned back, so she was reclining in Sherlock's lap.

All it took was one look at Molly's face, seeing her eyes heavy-lidded with desire, her checks flushed and her lower lip caught up in her teeth to keep from crying out, and Sherlock was gone. He wanted her so much. He had never felt an urge this strong, not even when he was using.

Instinct kicked in and Sherlock used his hold on Molly's hips to slide her up and down his cock. Molly moaned, squeezing him tighter with her legs.

Sherlock saw that position Molly had chosen had made it easy for him to dip his head and kiss her breasts. His pathologist was so clever he thought as he took her right breast into his mouth. He mentally cataloged each sound of pleasure Molly made, and that curling his tongue around her nipple caused her to actually cry out loud. Sherlock switched his attention to her left breast to see if he could make her do it again.

He could.

Sherlock was extraordinarily pleased with himself. He wanted Molly to feel good, to enjoy having sex with him. He already noticed this was a huge difference in having sex with someone he respected and just a random one night stand. When he was in Uni, having sex was more a game. He would see how quickly he could deduce the right piece of information that would cause a girl to tumble into bed with him. All he cared about then was reaching his orgasm as quickly as possible and then sending the girl on her way. He didn't feel like rushing with Molly and he damn sure wanted her to feel as good as she was making him feel.

Suddenly Molly sat up in his lap, crushed her breasts to his chest and brutally kissed him. Sherlock lost himself in the feel of her lips and how amazing she tasted. Molly leaned further up to nibble his earlobe, while at the same time grabbing his hand and guiding it to her clit, positioning his thumb to rub the sensitive nub.

"Sherlock," she whispered in his ear. "Whatever you do, don't stop touching me there."

She once again took ahold of the scarf and leaned back. Sherlock began rubbing tiny circles against her clit. He sped up when he saw he was making her whole body writhe in pleasure. He didn't think it was possible for Molly to get any tighter around him, but he could feel her orgasm building as her muscles squeezed him.

Sherlock's other hand curled even harder on Molly's hip as he quickened the pace. His one goal in life right now, his whole focus was on making Molly come before he did. It was a small sacrifice he could make to this astonishing woman who had given him so much, not just tonight, but for all the years they had known each other.

Sherlock felt Molly's orgasm crashed through her, and crushed her against his chest. His hand once again cradled the back of her head as his mouth moved against hers, swallowing her cries of ecstasy. Feeling her say his name against his lips as she came sent Sherlock spiraling off into this orgasm, blotting out everything in his mind except his own white-hot pleasure.

When he came back to reality, Sherlock found that Molly was removing the condom for him and was already swinging her legs off the bed to dispose of it. Sherlock felt oddly cold without Molly in the bed, despite the sweat that was slicked over his body. Molly padded back to the bed and laid down too far away for Sherlock's liking. He grabbed her and settled her against his side with her head on his shoulder.

That's better, he thought as he pulled the sheet up over them.

Molly, for her part, was trying valiantly not to think anything. That way only lead to nagging doubts and double guessing herself and right now all she wanted to do was lie here next to Sherlock and bask in the glow of a really good shagging.

"40," said Sherlock a few minutes later. His arm was wound around her, both of his hands on her hip. He had been so quiet Molly thought he had fallen asleep.

"What?" Said Molly.

"40 ways my scarf can be used as a sexual aid. You used it in a few ways I hadn't thought of," said Sherlock, as he looked down at Molly with a smile.

Molly couldn't help herself, she started to laugh. A few seconds later and Sherlock joined in as well. Once they had finally calmed down, Molly gave him a squeeze. "Should I head out now?" She asked. "It's getting quite late and if I want to get any sleep tonight…" Molly trailed off, not sure how to finish her thought.

Sherlock opened his mouth to tell her yes, she absolutely had to go, the experiment was done and he no longer required her presence. However, he found himself feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable and raw. Suddenly Sherlock felt that spending the night in Molly's embrace was the only thing he could not do without.

"Stay," said Sherlock, kissing Molly's forehead.

Molly smiled and nuzzled his neck and she put her arms around him. The last thought she had before drifting off to sleep was she was _definitely_ buying that lotto ticket tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly's bum was freezing.

While she was pleased to find herself still naked and snuggled against Sherlock's neck the next morning, Molly was not happy with her discovery that he was a blanket hog. She was even more unhappy about the fact that sometime in early morning he had taken most of the covers, leaving all of her backside uncovered.

She was also not thrilled that the glacial condition of said anatomy had woken her up a full half hour before her phone alarm was set to go off. Molly hated when that happened. It was not enough time to really go back to sleep, but just early enough to make her hesitate about getting out of bed. She briefly considered turning over and pressing her ice-cold bottom against Sherlock's warm pelvis just to pay him back for stealing all the sheets, but she decided that even a blanket hog didn't deserve that kind of wake up.

Instead Molly took a few minutes to study Sherlock's sleeping form. She rarely had the opportunity to just openly look at him without him noticing. She took in his sleep tousled curls, his long eyelashes, dark against his pale skin, his kissable mouth.

Good god, the man was handsome, Molly thought.

She had never seen him look so peaceful, so she resisted the urge to run her fingers over his skin. Lord only knows when he actually slept last and Molly didn't want to do anything to interrupt his slumber.

Gently she eased herself out of the bed, turned off her phone alarm, picked her clothes up off the floor and quietly padded out to the living room to gather her overnight bag. Molly hoped that Mrs. Hudson or John wouldn't decide that now would be a nice time for a morning visit and catch her tiptoeing naked around Sherlock's flat.

Quickly she dressed, deciding that it would be easier to shower and brush her teeth in the locker room at Bart's than here. After tying the laces of her trainers, Molly made her way to the kitchen, hoping there would be a bottle of water in the fridge she could take with her on the way to work. Her luck continued to hold and she found several in the door.

Snagging one, Molly wondered what she should do now. It seemed wrong to just leave without some kind of note for Sherlock. But what should she write? 'Thanks for a lovely evening' seemed too cliché, and Sherlock would hate it.

While she contemplated what to write, Molly absentmindedly looked around the kitchen until her gaze fell on the coffee maker. She noticed it had a timed start option. And look! Sherlock actually had some coffee grounds in a bag next to it. Perfect, she thought.

Molly set up the coffee maker so it would start brewing in another three hours. She ripped a sheet out of the small notepad she carried in her purse and wrote "Hope this is better than what you end up drinking at the station or Bart's! – Molly" and weighted it down with the only clean coffee cup she could find.

Satisfied, Molly shouldered her overnight bag and purse and left, shutting the door softly behind her and praying all the way down the stairs that she wouldn't bump into Mrs. Hudson or John.

oooOOOooo

The smell of coffee woke Sherlock. For a split second Sherlock wondered if John could be persuaded to make some bacon for breakfast before remembering that John no longer lived with him and he should not be alone in his bed.

Sherlock sat up, closed his eyes and listened. He was greeted by silence. Molly was definitely not in the flat. Sherlock frowned, torn. On one hand he was glad to avoid the whole "morning after" awkwardness but on the other hand, he enjoyed snuggling with Molly last night and was hoping to indulge in more before she had to leave for work…..for research purposes obviously, he told himself.

Sherlock decided to investigate the coffee smell.

He pulled on his dressing gown as he crossed the flat with his long strides. He noticed the slant of sun through the blinds and realized it was later than he thought, no wonder Molly wasn't still here.

Sherlock spied Molly's note straight away. Reading it made him smile. He slipped it into his violin case, where it would be safe from the prying eyes of Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock doctored his cup and carried the mug to his desk and turned on his laptop. While it powered on, Sherlock sipped his drink and idly wondered if he and Molly lived together if she would make coffee for him every morning before she went to work.

Sherlock startled. What had he just been thinking?! He had never, never thought about living with a woman before, even when he let his mind drift. Sherlock shook his head. Obviously he'd been listening too much to John and his tales of wedded bliss; he'd have to stop that.

He needed a case, Sherlock decided. With a nod, he resolved to put Molly and their experiment out of his mind for the next few days.

oooOOOooo

The next day Mary waddled into the lab. At 7 months pregnant waddling was pretty much the only speed she had these days.

"Mary!" Exclaimed Molly. "You shouldn't be here! All these chemicals can't be good for the baby."

"Well I guess you have no choice but to go out and have lunch with me then," said Mary with a smirk.

"You're diabolical," said Molly with a laugh.

"I know," Mary said with a smile. "Ooh! Cute boots!"

"Thanks!" Molly said, turning her foot to admire her new footwear. "I won 100 pounds on a scratch off lottery ticket and I decided to treat myself."

"Lucky girl!" said Mary.

"You have no idea," said Molly under her breath as slipped off her lab coat and grabbed her purse.

The girls made their way to the chip shop down the street from Bart's. Once they settled at a table with their food and drinks, Mary wasted no time getting to the point of her visit.

"So," the blonde said over the rim of her teacup. "Do you know what's up with Sherlock?"

"What?" Said Molly, in what she hoped was a casual manner.

"John says that all day yesterday and today he keeps going through cycles of being cheerful and almost…dreamy to a surly arsehole," said Mary shaking her head. "I just wondered if maybe you had any idea what's got him in such a snit."

Molly, who had always been very good at deducing the moods of Sherlock Holmes, had a pretty good idea what was bothering him. He was getting mad at himself for actually having human emotions about their "experiment" the other day.

Well, well, well. Now the shoe was on the other foot. Molly raised her cup to hide the big smirk that thought gave her. Quickly she arranged her features into a neutral expression.

"I have no idea," said Molly blandly. She changed the subject. "So are you all set for the baby?"

As Mary launched into all the baby-proofing she and John had done recently, Molly mentally patted herself on the back for not arousing Mary's suspicion about her and Sherlock.

oooOOOooo

"So does she know?" asked John the second Mary made it home an hour later.

"Oh yeah, she totally knows," said Mary as she sat on the sofa and put her swollen feet in John's lap for him to rub. "But she's pretending she doesn't. I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens."

"This could be bad," said John, working on Mary's arch.

"Epically so," said Mary, dropping her head back in pleasure. "Should be fun!"

They laughed.

oooOOOooo

Molly was just hanging her jacket up back at Bart's when her cellphone pinged.

EXPERIMENT TONIGHT. COME TO BAKER STREET AT 8 PM.

Molly rolled her eyes at the curtness of the message. At least that gave her enough time to go home and shower she thought.

Over at the police station currently Sherlock was staring at his phone. Why had he sent that message? He hadn't meant to. He had planned on waiting at least one more day before having Molly come back over. But a woman at the police station used the same brand of shampoo as Molly, and when Sherlock had caught a whiff of it, he had sent the message before he had even realized it.

Surely he wasn't eager for sex, was he? If he was being honest with himself he had spent a lot of time thing about the other night with Molly. A lot more than he thought he would. These were such …base emotions and actions, and he was above all that. Sherlock fretted for a minute.

No, he decided. He wasn't eager for sex per se, but for the experiment. He was always excited at the beginning of an interesting experiment, getting caught up in it.

Happy with that explanation and feeling all was right in his world; Sherlock slipped his phone back into his coat pocket and made his way to the exit. If Molly was coming over tonight, he should put some new sheets on the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Molly walked up the steps to Sherlock's apartment, pleased that there were fewer butterflies in her stomach this time. Then her mind betrayed her by wondering if Sherlock would ever bother with the dressing gown this time, which brought back the butterflies in full force, maybe with reinforcements too. Molly was so caught up trying not picture Sherlock naked that it took her a second to realize the door was locked.

_What the hell?_ Molly thought. _Did he forget I was coming? Is he lost in his mind palace and not realize what time it is?_

Just then Molly's phone chimed.

GOT CALLED TO A CASE AND HIT TRAFFIC COMING BACK. I'M A HALF HOUR AWAY. DON'T LEAVE. PLEASE. - SH

Molly sighed and put her phone away. Of course she wouldn't leave, especially since he remembered to say please, but she still wished he had let her know earlier that he was going to be late. She could have stopped by a cafe or something and waited there. Molly was contemplating fishing out the paperback in her purse and setting up camp on the steps until Sherlock returned when Mrs. Hudson opened her door and stuck her head out.

"Oh hello dear!" Said Mrs. Hudson warmly. "I heard someone on the steps and I was hoping it was Sherlock. I made some scones and I have extra. Did he ask you over to help with an experiment?" She asked, and nodded her head towards the overnight bag slung on Molly's shoulder.

_I. Will. Not. Blush._ Molly willed her body to follow orders. "Um, an experiment. Yes. That's why I'm here. Sadly he's in traffic and is running late. I was just going to wait for him here."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Hudson trilled. "Come in and help me eat these scones. We can chat while we wait for that impossible man."

And that's exactly where Sherlock found them when he finally arrived. Sitting in Mrs. Hudson's cozy kitchen, a plate covered in scone crumbs between them, laughing uproariously at story Mrs. Hudson was telling about when she was in Uni.

"We were so drunk we didn't even care if anyone saw us naked, outside shagging in the..."

'MRS. HUDSON!" Sherlock bellowed, trying to save him (and Molly) from an awful mental image. "That's quite enough reminiscing for one night I believe. Thank you for keeping Molly company while she waited but now we have work to do."

"Oh, you!" Mrs. Hudson scowled mockingly at Sherlock. "You just came back from a case and now you're going to do more work? And dragging poor Molly into it too. You really need to learn to have some fun dear."

"Yes, well, I'll see what I can do about that," Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes when Mrs. Hudson turned to put the plate away. He held his hand out to Molly. "Shall we?"

Clamping a lid on her nerves, Molly took Sherlock's hand. She expected him to drop it as soon as she was out of her chair and was extremely surprised when Sherlock gave it a squeeze before settling his hand on her lower back and guided her towards the stairs.

"Thanks for a great visit," Molly called over her shoulder to Mrs. Hudson, who answered back with a cheery "Anytime my dear!"

Sherlock's hand continued to rest on the small of her back as they climbed the stairs to his flat.

"Thank you for waiting for me," Sherlock said somewhat sheepishly. "I really intended to be back before you got here."

"I know you did," Molly said, smiling at him. "And thank you for saying please. I appreciated it."

"Yes, well,..." Sherlock could think of nothing to say while he fished his key out of his pocket. He had been so relieved to hear her voice coming from Mrs. Hudson's flat when he got back that his head had swum a little. He felt like he was still finding his footing, emotionally. He quickly unlocked the door and ushered Molly through it, locking it again once they were both past the threshold.

"Did you want to shower before we…um, get started?" Asked Molly as she deposited her overnight bag on the couch.

"Actually I probably should," Sherlock mused as hung up his coat, out of habit he started to hang his scarf up with it, but stopped halfway though and handed it instead to Molly with a small smile. Molly couldn't stop the blush this time.

"I'll just be a few more minutes," Sherlock called over his shoulder as he strode into the bathroom and shut the door.

After putting up her own coat, Molly drifted towards his bedroom while running the soft scarf through her hands. It looked like Sherlock was in the middle of changing the sheets when he got called away. The fitted sheet was on, but the flat sheet and the duvet was on the floor and the pillowcases where strewn in the middle of the bed.

Again, Molly appreciated the thoughtfulness of the gesture and hummed a bit to herself as she finished making the bed. Since the chore took her no time at all and Sherlock was still showering Molly decided she might as well make herself comfortable.

Sherlock, dark blue towel slung around this hips and his wet hair slicked back, stood stock still at the tableau he had walked in on. Molly Hooper, hair down across her shoulders and dressed in a lilac nightie was in his bed, waiting for him. Already, Sherlock felt himself hardening, and based off the eyebrow Molly had just raised, his towel was not hiding the fact – so without thought he ripped it off his body and flung it over his shoulder and made the rest of the journey to the bed nude.

Slipping between the sheets, Sherlock reached for her and pulled Molly flush against his chest, winding his hands though her hair as he slid one leg between hers. Using his hold on her hair to anchor her, Sherlock slowly lowered his head to hers, and lightly brushed his lips over her mouth. His teasing caused Molly to whimper and wind her arms around him, trying to pull him even closer to her. He lowered his head again, and still keeping his kiss light, used the tip of his tongue to explore the shape of her lower lip. Sherlock kept his tantalizing exploration of Molly's mouth with the softest of touches until Molly couldn't stop herself from running her nails down his back and her hips rolled again his without her consent.

Shifting his target from her mouth to her neck, Sherlock nipped at her pulse point as his hands skimmed down her body. Reaching the hem of her silk nightie, Sherlock toyed with the lace edge.

"As delectable as you look in this Molly, I think it's time it came off," Sherlock practically panted in her ear.

Molly gave Sherlock a quick, hard kiss and rolled away from him. Kneeling, she crossed her arms and grasped the hem he had just been playing with. Slowly, inch by inch, Molly worked the lingerie up her body. Sherlock watched her with eyes full of desire, his fingers twitching like it was taking everything in his power to keep from ripping the delicate material from her body. When she uncovered her breasts, she heard his sharp intake of breath. Molly felt like a goddess.

Once she had pulled the nightie over her head and tossed it to the floor, Sherlock sat up and reached for her.

Molly grabbed his wrists. "Wait," she said as she pressed a kiss to each of his palms and then reached for the scarf she had set on the nightstand.

"Put your hands behind you back, more towards your waist," Molly instructed. Sherlock raised an eyebrow but did as he was told, even twisting his back to her to make easier for her to access his hands. Deftly tying wrists together, Molly helped him lay back down. While it was not exactly the most comfortable position, Sherlock noticed that the way Molly had positioned him caused his hips to rise a few inches from the bed.

Before he had time to complete process this, he realized that Molly had positioned herself between his legs. His whole lower body tensed as she leaned forward, causing her breasts to brush against his erection as she kissed his stomach. Sherlock couldn't hold in his gasp.

Grinning like the cat who got the cream, Molly worked her way down Sherlock's body. She lowered her head until Sherlock could feel her breath on his straining cock. For a full minute Molly hovered there, and just when he couldn't take it anymore, she ran tongue from the base of his cock to the tip.

Sherlock stopped breathing.

Molly took him in her hands and using the same light touch he had used to tease her mouth earlier, she proceeded to run her tongue over each inch of throbbing penis. Sherlock groaned and tried to bring his hips closer to her mouth.

"What is you want Sherlock?" Molly asked playfully, running her nails lightly across his inner thighs.

"Molly….god, Molly," Sherlock rasped out. "I want your mouth on me. Now. Please. Please Molly."

"As you wish," she whispered, echoing his words from the other night before taking his whole length in her mouth. Sherlock moaned and arched his back. He couldn't keep from chanting her names as her head bobbed, bringing him close to coming.

All at once Molly stopped, causing Sherlock to growl in displeasure.

"Don't worry," said Molly as she nipped at his hip, causing him to gasp again. "I'm not done with you yet."

She reached over and fished a foil packet out of the condom box that was still sitting on his nightstand. She opened the packet and slowly unrolled down his cock. Deciding that he had been teased enough, Molly quickly straddled his hips and guided him into her wet core. Sherlock felt his eyes close and his head fall back with pleasure. With his hands propping his hips up the way they were, Molly was able to take all of him deep within her.

Leaning forward so her breasts moved against his chest, Molly set a fast pace. This time she was determined to make him come before her. Squeezing her inner muscles so that she was even tighter around him, Molly brought her hands to cradle Sherlock's face and gave him a scorching kiss. It was more than Sherlock could take and his orgasm slammed through him like a runaway lorry.

Seeing Sherlock bound beneath her and lost in his own pleasure sent Molly's own orgasm rocketing to heights she didn't even know she could achieve.

Once their breathing had started to calm down, Molly eased herself off of him and helped him sit up so she could untie his hands. Sherlock gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before excusing himself to the bathroom. He returned to find Molly laying on her stomach already half asleep. He eased next to her, unable to stop himself from running his hands through her hair.

"Do you want me to leave?" Molly asked, starting to stir.

Still stroking her hair, Sherlock closed his eyes to think. Did he want her to leave? The level of intimacy they seem to be reaching did make him…uneasy to be honest. Maybe it would be better if she left. But he knew that would hurt her and Sherlock found that Molly's feelings and how he affected them was starting to matter to him. And as long as he was being honest with himself, having a sleepy, naked Molly Hooper pressed against him feel…at peace. Like it was easier to keep his mind from going over all the horrible things he had seen in his career. The self-doubt that told him he was freak, that if he was really smart and clever he could have saved more people, was quieted with Molly in his arms.

Sherlock shifted Molly up a bit so her head was pillowed on his shoulder.

"Go to sleep Molly," he said giving her one more kiss on the crown of her head.

"Okay," Molly sighed against his chest, giving him a quick squeeze and a kiss on his chest before dropping like a stone into slumber. Sherlock gave a little shake of his head, amused at how quickly Molly had fallen asleep and continued to play with Molly's hair until he fell asleep twenty minutes later.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock woke once again to an empty bed and silence in his flat. Shaking the last of the sleep induced fuzz from his mind, he frowned. Last time Molly left before he woke up he couldn't decide if he was annoyed or relieved. Now he had decided. He was irritated.

Why was she rushing off like this? Sherlock wondered. Was she worried that he would be an absolute beast in the morning? He could be tactful. Just because he didn't like to be, didn't mean he _couldn't_, he thought angrily. Plus her sneaking out of his flat made him feel…..cheap, like he was being used.

You bloody git! Said John from Sherlock's mind palace. How do you think you made her feel when you manipulated her to get stuff from the lab? Sherlock had to admit to himself that mind palace John had a point. It would serve him right if Molly was indeed using him for sex.

Sherlock was pulled from his rapidly depressing thoughts by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He followed the smell to the kitchen, smiling when he saw that Molly had left him another note under a clean cup. This one read "You looked so peaceful I didn't want to wake you! Have a great day. – Molly"

Slipping the note with its brother in his violin case, Sherlock shook his head ruefully. Of course Molly wasn't using him, she was trying to take care of him. Like she always does. He would just have to tell her that he would much prefer she wake him before she left than her tiptoeing out without saying goodbye.

Why was having Molly saying goodbye before she left so important to him? Sherlock decided he would add that feeling to the growing pile of "to be examined later" this experiment was producing. Not wanting to dwell on that disturbing fact, Sherlock made a mental list of what he wanted to do today. He had a few small errands he needed to run and then he would swing by Bart's right after lunch –where he would tell Molly to stop leaving his flat like a thief in the night and see if she had any cadaver fingers and toes he could have for his latest acid experiment.

Of course if he wanted the fingers and toes, he should probably find a more _tactful_ way of asking her to stop sneaking out. Sherlock decided he would think about it while he showered.

oooOOOooo

Four hours later, Sherlock swept into the lab, his coat billowing out behind him like a hero in a gothic novel. Or at least that's how it seemed to Molly as she reminded herself that she was a modern woman, and was perfectly capable of talking to the man she was having mind-blowing sex with, without blushing, stuttering or acting like a complete idiot when she was at her workplace. She could. She _could_.

"Ah, Molly," drawled Sherlock as he stalked over to her. "Would you be as so kind as to hand me your keys please?"

"Um, sure, what for?" Asked Molly as she fumbled for her keys in her pocket. When she finally produced them, Sherlock quickly plucked them from her hand before fishing a shiny new key from his own jacket pocket.

"It occurred to me that they may be future incidents where I'm delayed by traffic with you waiting for me on the wrong side of my flat's door," Sherlock said as he added the new key to the ring. "I would hate for you to be mentally scarred by one of Mrs. Hudson's tales of the good old days, so I made you a key for 221B Baker Street."

The key now safely nestled in with its mates, Sherlock leaned forward and dropped the ring back in the pocket of Molly's lab coat.

"Wow, that's…that's really considerate of you Sherlock, thanks!" Said Molly, smiling up at him. Sherlock found himself smiling back in return before getting distracted by a piece of hair that had fallen out of her bun and was stuck to her temple. Without thinking, he reached out and eased the offending lock behind her ear. Molly's breath caught in her throat.

Without moving his hand from where it now cradled her head, Sherlock took a tiny step closer to Molly. "I actually have a favor to ask of you," he said his voice dropping and becoming almost…tentative. "I know you think I find it preferable that you not wake me up before you leave in the mornings, but I find it …jarring when you do that. Don't worry about me getting enough sleep, let me know when you're going. Please."

What was it about this man saying please that turned her insides into melted goo? Molly wondered. She was actually feeling a little light-headed from his admission. She took a breath to steady herself.

"I'm sorry Sherlock," Molly said, proud that her voice didn't waver. "If you're sure you'd rather I wake you up then let you sleep, I will absolutely let you know when I'm leaving."

"Thank you," said Sherlock, trailing his fingers down her neck. He leaned down as if to kiss her, but a sudden clanging of an intern dropping bed pans in the hallway outside the lab had them springing apart like two teenagers caught snogging.

"Umm, oh!" Said Molly, trying to recover her composure. "There have actually been a lot of bodies donated to science today. I remember that you said you had an idea for some acid trials. Would you like some fingers and toes?"

Sherlock was pleased that Molly had offered the cadaver digits without him asking. He would hate for her to think that he only told her he wanted her to stop leaving the flat without saying goodbye as an attempt to manipulate her for body parts. He wanted to never put Molly through that again.

"That would be splendid. Thank you Molly," he said and followed her back to the autopsy room.

oooOOOooo

The next day found Molly in a fantastic mood. She had spent the previous night having some sorely needed "girl time" with Meena while they drank wine, ate chocolate and watched their favorite episodes of Dr. Who at her flat. Then this morning, Toby had been extra affectionate and her hair was looking really good if she did say so herself. Even better, she found that once she got to work, that her paper on how geographical location affected a person's cardiovascular health had been published in the Royal College of Physicians Clinical Medicine Journal and was receiving great reviews. No fewer than a dozen people from Bart's had made a special trip to the morgue to congratulate her.

Molly had just finished her lunch at the canteen when her phone chirped at her. COME TO BAKER STREET TONIGHT. 7:30. PLEASE. – SH

Molly smiled to herself, her day just kept getting better.

oooOOOooo

Molly was just raising her hand to knock on Sherlock's door when the man himself opened it from the inside, almost as if he had been waiting for her to arrive.

"Oh good, you're here," said Sherlock as he ushered her inside. He raised an eyebrow as he caught sight of her lime green wellies. "Really Molly?"

Before they started this "experiment" that statement would have caused her to cringe or maybe leave the room in tears, but now she just pecked Sherlock on the cheek as she walked by to set her bag down and laughed.

"Life's too short not to pick the fun colours, Sherlock," she said.

Sherlock looked a little stunned at the casual kiss Molly had just given him but recovered quickly and rolled his eyes at her statement. "That explains so much about your wardrobe," he said.

It was Molly's turn to roll her eyes, and was turning around to reply to his sarcasm with a scathing retort when the sight of the cleaned kitchen table, already set with food and an expensive white wine made her pause.

"What's this then?" Molly asked as she wandered closer to inspect the food. It looked like shrimp scampi from Angelo's. Her favorite.

Sherlock scratched the back of his neck and actually looked a little nervous. "I saw your paper got published and had good reviews. I'm not surprised it's been well received; you did a good job on it. But I thought we could have dinner to…..to celebrate," he said.

Molly looked at Sherlock in shock. She couldn't believe he went to all this trouble for her. He looked so nervous! He wasn't one for thoughtful gestures and was obviously waiting for her to tell him that he had mucked it up. She crossed to him in three quick strides, caught his face and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. It only took him a heartbeat to relax into her embrace, gripping her hips with his hands. Molly broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. "This is one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me. Thank you Sherlock," she whispered.

Sherlock blinked. "You're….You're welcome Molly. I'm glad you like it. Shall we eat?" He asked in a low tone.

"Yes, please!" said Molly, as Sherlock escorted her to the table and pulled out the chair for her. "This looks amazing! I am having the best day today!"

"Oh, really?" asked Sherlock as he began to dish out the food for both of them. "Tell me about it."

So Molly and Sherlock spent the next two hours talking about both their days, and Molly's paper and her idea for the next paper she wanted to publish. They argued, they collaborated ideas, they pushed each other to think differently. They had a fantastic time.

The food finally finished and most of the wine gone, Sherlock gave Molly's hand a squeeze. "Not too full to experiment are we?" He asked with a slight smirk.

"Not at all," Molly said with a smirk of her own. They both got up and headed towards the bedroom, Sherlock making a slight detour to get his scarf from by the door. Unfortunately it also brought him close to Molly's footwear.

"Honestly, Molly," said Sherlock as he herded her into his bedroom. "Did you have to pick that obnoxious shade of green? I know you like color, but you couldn't show some restraint?"

Molly narrowed her eyes. She was _not_ about to let Sherlock ruin this wonderful day she was having. When Sherlock said "restraint" an idea on how to get back to him came to mind. If he had been paying more attention to her and not her wellies, he would have seen the wicked smiled that crossed her features before she bit it back.

"Sherlock," she said pleasantly. "Shut up." And with that she whirled around and began unbuttoning his chocolate-brown shirt. Sherlock was suddenly nervous. This was the first time he could ever remember being undressed by a woman. Molly undid the last button and pushed his shirt and suit jacket off his shoulders where it fell onto the floor in a heap. Molly ran her nails lightly from his neck, over his chest, down to his belt buckle before circling him to run her fingers from his waist, up his spine to the crown of his head. Sherlock sucked in a breath. God, he wanted her hands everywhere.

Molly circled him again, running her nails all the way around his ribs before stopping to kneel down in front of him to help him take his shoes and socks off. She rose and reached for his belt, undoing it with efficiency, and then pushing his trousers and boxer briefs off. Next she wound her hands in his hair and tugged him down for another kiss. Whereas it was a novel sensation to rub his naked body against Molly's fully clothed one, Sherlock wished she would get undressed too.

"Sherlock," whispered Molly as she nibbled on his ear, "lie down on the bed for me and put your hands above your head."

Sherlock actually leaned down for one more quick kiss before complying with Molly's request. As he laid on the bed and sheathed himself in a condom, Molly stripped and then used the scarf to tie his hands to the headboard. She then stretched out next him, teasing him with her naked body cuddled up to his side. Kissing his neck, Molly whispered in his ear again.

"Sherlock," she said seductively. "I want to play a game."

"A game?" Sherlock gasped out. Really how had Molly gotten so good with her tongue? "Is this something you read in one of your tawdry women's sex magazines?"

"No," Molly all but purred in his ear. "This one is all my own design. C'mon, play along. There's a prize involved."

"Well seeing how I'm not really in a position to say no, what's the game?" Asked Sherlock, doing his best to achieve a dry tone and almost succeeding.

"If you can go ten minutes without reacting to what I'm doing – no moaning, no gasping, no moving – I'll chuck my wellies straight in the bin. If you _do_ react however, you have to buy me a purple pair I've had my eye on," said Molly playfully as she pulled up the stop clock on her phone and put it on the bed. "And no going to your mind palace! You have to stay in the moment."

Sherlock grinned. He trained himself to deal with intense physical and mental conditions. He was the master of his mind and body. He could do this and he'd have the added satisfaction of ridding the world of those god awful wellies. "The game is afoot then," he said.

Molly pressed her body even closer to him and then began whispering every fantasy she'd had about the two of them in Sherlock's ear. She used graphic detail as she described how she wanted him to bend her over the counters in the lab, how she wanted to go down on him in the back of a taxi, how she wanted to tie him to her bed and ride him for an entire weekend. She moaned, she ran her hands over her body, she rolled her hips so her wet centered pressed against his thighs.

He made it five minutes.

It was right as Molly was telling him how she wanted his hard cock pounding her sweet, wet, little pussy when Sherlock snapped.

With a bellow, he ripped his hands free from the scarf, grabbed Molly and dragged her under him. With one hand he captured both of her wrists and stretched her arms above her head, putting her in the same position he had just been in. His other hand touched as much of her skin as he could. It traveled from her neck to her ass.

With one hard thrust he entered her and set a blistering pace. He was not gentle. Molly loved it.

He was operating almost exclusively on his need to feel Molly writhing beneath him, to feel her walls squeezing him. The tiny part of his brain that was still operating noticed that while Molly _was_ wet and aroused, she was nowhere near as far along as he was. He wanted to desperately make her come before him, but he knew he'd never make it. He could already feel his muscles tightening in response to his oncoming orgasm. And then it hit him. With a groan that sounded like it was wrenched from his soul, Sherlock crushed Molly to him as he had the most intense orgasm of his life.

Once his vision returned, Sherlock rolled away from Molly long enough to take the condom off and toss it in the nearby trash can, before rolling back and gathering her in his arms on their sides so her back was cushioned on his chest.

"So, I'll just send you the link to where you can order the wellies, shall I?" Asked Molly in a satisfied tone.

Sherlock sighed. "Don't sound so smug Molly, I'll order the damn things."

Sherlock began stroking his left hand down her body as his right played with her breasts. Soon he was rubbing Molly's clit, which was still very sensitive from their recent love making.

"What are you doing?" Asked Molly as her breath began to hitch.

"You didn't get your turn," whispered Sherlock in her ear, before nipping the pulse point right below her jaw. "You made me come, now I'm returning the favor."

Sherlock reached even lower, pushing his long fingers into her tight entrance. Then he proceeded to tell her which of her fantasies he particularly enjoyed and added a few of his own that starred Molly spread across his desk.

It was more than Molly could take and she came hard, hissing his name like a curse. Sherlock was extraordinarily proud of himself. Before she could even ask, Sherlock pulled the sheets up over them and settled Molly even closer to him as he already started to drift into sleep.

The next morning, Sherlock awoke just as he felt the bed dip as Molly sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned over to give him a good morning kiss. He felt her aiming for his cheek and at the last second turned his head so she ended up kissing him smack on the mouth.

"You bloody prat!" Laughed Molly as she pulled back.

Sherlock gave her a huge grin. "John told me about that trick," he said, his voice still rough from sleep.

"And how many unsuspecting girls did John Watson say he used that move on?" Asked Molly as she began getting up.

"John said loads," said Sherlock, still sounding proud of himself.

"I just bet he did," said Molly as she gave Sherlock's blanket covered rear a playful swat. "I need to leave to head back to my flat to deal with Toby before heading to work. I started the coffee maker. Thanks again for the celebration dinner Sherlock. It was lovely."

Sherlock snuggled back down into the covers, planning on grabbing another half hour of sleep. "You're welcome Molly. Thanks for starting the coffee and for…telling me goodbye. I'm sure I'll see you at Bart's soon."

"I'm sure you will," said Molly as she walked to the door. "Don't forget to order those wellies!" She called over her shoulder before heading out, closing the door behind her.

Sherlock groaned and pulled the covers over his head.

oooOOOooo

The next day Molly was sitting in her office, when a mailroom clerk delivered a large box to her. Molly opened the box with glee, actually cackling out loud when she saw the bright magenta rain boots. Then she noticed there was another item in the box. Opening the opaque plastic, Molly pulled out a lace teddy in gorgeous shade of misty blue. Molly actually stood holding it with her mouth open for a full minute before she thought to look for a card.

Fishing through the packing materials in the box Molly finally found it. Printed on a simple white index card, the note read "Here are your spoils of war. I saw the other item while I was on the clothing site and though the color would suit you more than the magenta you insisted on having. Wear it for our next experiment? Please? – SH"

Molly dropped into her office chair with a graceless thump. She was stunned. Stunned. Her mind was a riot. One thought was crystal clear though. She sure as shit was going to wear the teddy the next time she was at 221B Baker Street.

He had said "please" after all.

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up. I will try and do better. In the meanwhile, if you're looking for other good Sherlock stories, I highly recommend the Sustain series by MaybeAmanda and onemillionnine (Here's the first one s/7131146/1/Sustain-or-Concerto-for-the-Famished-in-D-Minor) it is HANDS DOWN the best Sherlock fanfiction I've read. The Science of Perception by Tallulah99 ( s/9693483/1/The-Science-of-Perception), Paragon by AsteraceaBlue ( s/9565686/1/Paragon) and anything written by Lono ( u/152753/Lono) are a very close second. Enjoy!


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